Moving On
by HPfanatic592
Summary: Everything around him just seems to fall...until there's nothing left. AU, post HBP. Complete.


_When I think about my life_

_I wonder if I will survive_

_To live to see 25 or will I just fall_

_Like all my friends they just keep dying_

_People around me always crying_

_In this place that I like to call my home_

Most people would feel sad; he felt angry. An anger so intense it could split the sun. An anger so pure it could never be tainted. He looked down on the gray granite stone; the same color gray as the sky today. Clouds with silvery outlines blew in from the east side with a sharp winter chill, sneaking its way into his warm leather jacket and icing his skin. Goosebumps stood up on his pale scarred skin; he felt a cold tear forming in his eyes. He let them dry up. He wasn't going to cry.

_Well not everybody knows _

_That everybody goes to a better place_

_And not everybody knows _

_That everybody could be living their last days_

They were his best friends. His _best friends_. They were there for each other. No matter what. And as ironic as it seems, for being seemingly separated for eternity, they were here together once more. He laughed into the silent sky at the thought of it. He would probably be with them soon. Eventually, he would. It was their request. Together. They decided they would all be buried together, no matter what. And then, they were gone. It was Ron first. He loved Ron like a brother, stronger than any bond he could ever have with a brother. He died in battle. Brave, but tragic and so suddenly. And then, as they mourned for him, Hermione was taken. She just disappeared. Three months later, she was found dead. Dead. For Harry, it was like _he_ was dead. His best friends, his family, were murdered. He had no one. He became no one. He found strength in the truth, in the way it was supposed to be. He had to defeat Voldemort to save the rest. He went on.

_But the hard times will come _

_And well keep moving on, we're moving on_

_Keep moving on_

He lived. He wasn't going to let the scum of the earth win this battle. Not against himself. And he knew that Voldemort was turning him against himself. That's all he wanted. He moved on. He found another person he loved so much that it was impossible for him to love her. He couldn't put her in danger. They were...and they weren't. He met her at a Muggle pub. Well, she made sure he didn't kill himself trying to get home. In his state of five shots of straight vodka and four beers, he said something about being a wizard. And it just turns out she was a witch too. True, he had never met her before. Her name was Annabel. She had straight light brown, almost blonde, hair that came to her shoulders. Framed behind long black lashes were cool gray eyes that if you looked closely, were blue. That night, he passed out in her apartment and didn't wake up until two days later. It happened slowly, but a month later, they were officially, unofficially together.

_Life, Hope, Truth, Trust, _

_Faith, Pride, Love, Lust_

_On without the things we've lost_

_The things we've gained we'll take with us_

But the attacks started getting closer and closer, and more people were dying. And Harry knew what he had to do. He sent Annabel away to Germany with Dean Thomas, who was residing there in secret. It wasn't, by any means, easy for him. But this was something that he had to do, that he had to sacrifice, to save the ones he loved. The ones left.

_And all I've got are these two hands to make myself a better man_

_I wonder if I'll ever see the end of this_

_With all this rain it just keeps falling_

_On my head and now I'm calling_

_Out to someone else to help me make it through_

Four years went by relatively fast. Harry dodged death multiple times, nearly dying once without the help of a Healer. An attack in Hamburg brought Harry to Germany. He longed for Annabel. He wasn't allowed correspondence with her if he didn't want to risk her being found. But he had to just make one visit. It took over five hours to find out where she was living, in a shop flat in Berlin. One breath, one knock. One click and the door opened. A little boy with dark hair and startling blue eyes opened the door. Harry's eyes widened as a slender brown-haired witch approached the door. Annabel brought Harry in quickly, ushering him to sit on the cream-colored sofa while she poured him a glass of water. The little boy bounded to the opposite couch and buried his tan face into the fabric.

"Who's this?" Harry inquired carefully about the child.

Annabel quietly sighed and put the pitcher of water back into the refrigerator. "Keith."

He clenched his teeth. The boy was about four years old...but was this Harry's _child_?

"Dean's dead. He was killed five weeks ago. "

"Oh," Harry muttered, a pang of sadness striking his heart. "I'm so sorry." He cleared his throat.

"Uh...were you and Dean ever...uh..."

Annabel shook her head. She saw where Harry was going with his question.

"No. Keith is...is _your_ son."

_Well not everybody knows _

_That everybody goes to a better place_

_And not everybody knows _

_That everybody could be living their last days_

Annabel was taken away three days after their meeting. Harry took Keith and ran into hiding in the countryside of Switzerland. He found a wizarding family that would take him in and then Harry was gone. He couldn't find Annabel. He knew she was dead. Harry knew that the Death Eaters would have killed her by now. He wept for days. But he was thankful that he still had Keith, his only son. His only future. His only hope.

_But the hard times will come _

_And well keep moving on, we're moving on_

_Keep moving on_

He returned to England and lived another year until the supposed fall of Voldemort. Maybe Harry was paranoid, or maybe he was right, but he never returned to get Keith. Two months later, Death Eaters invaded Diagon Alley; Gringotts; and Godric's Hollow. Lucius Malfoy was murdered by his son, Draco. Along with Malfoy, Nott, Goyle, and Bulstrode fell with him. It was a blow for the Death Eaters but they showed no signs. You-Know-Who stayed either undercover because he was weak, or undercover because he was plotting. In the attack at Diagon Alley, Harry came face-to-face with the man who betrayed his parents; Peter Pettigrew. The man still looked like a rat, as Harry recalled. With gusto, Harry used the Cruciatus Curse, but Pettigrew fought it and got away. He wanted to kill that bastard with all that was in him. It was Pettigrew who was the sole reason that Harry was an orphan, a helpless baby who grew up to be the lanky teen who saved the world. The teen who grew up to be the broken 26-year-old with more scars than a mind or heart could count.

_Life, Hope, Truth, Trust, _

_Faith, Pride, Love, Lust_

_Pain, Hate, Lies, Guilt,_

_Laugh, Cry, Live, Die_

Another year, and the attacks diminished significantly. Harry returned to get his son, the growing six-year-old with the signature Potter hair and the sad blue eyes. He has been miraculously safe. Somehow Voldemort didn't find out about Keith, and Harry couldn't thank the stars enough. With Dumbledore gone, Moody missing, and Remus incognito, Harry had no where to turn until he found Blaise Zabini. Even though a veteran Slytherin, Blaise himself hadn't been on the bad side. It was his late father who was, and since his mother had died when he was four, Blaise was a neutral passerby. He took a big chance in keeping him but he did. It was a slow transition for the people in the next few months. They finally recognized that Voldemort was gone. They celebrated like they had so many years ago, the year Harry became a child without parents and with a haunting past.

_Some friends become enemies_

_Some friends become your family_

_Make the best with what you're given_

_This ain't dying _

_This is living_

They moved to the city, where they both lived a normal life. Harry quit his save-the-world job to teach Keith- about magic, about his past, about his mother. It wasn't like there weren't threats though; there was one Death Eater attack two blocks down from where he lived. His good friend Oliver Wood and his wife Katie were killed, leaving their baby daughter Lucy to grow up with her grandparents.

Just like Neville, Harry thought.

Harry hadn't spoken to Neville in years, actually. He wasn't even sure he was alive. As grim as it sounded, he knew that he probably wasn't. But it was the truth. Remus came out from hiding a few months earlier, and Harry often corresponded with him. Remus resided in Grimmauld Place, since Harry felt he couldn't sell the house. He wished Remus could live with him, but in the city, the truth was that he was such a danger to his son and the people around him. Keith loved "Uncle Remy" though, and they visited often.

_Said we're moving on_

_And we got nothing to prove_

_To anyone cause we'll get through_

_We're moving on and on and on and on_

_and on and on and on and on and on and _

_on and on and on and on and on and on and_

_Keep moving on_

And then it happened. Voldemort came back. Just like that. He just reappeared. Everywhere, You-Know-Who's associates popped up, caused mayhem, and disappeared. And there was a werewolf. Harry didn't know his name. But at the Magpies-Puddlemere game where Keith and Harry were spending a weekend together...he just...came out of nowhere. Harry didn't even think it was planned.

He bit Keith.

He was rushed to St. Mungo's, but it wasn't soon enough. Keith died of the bite in less than an hour. He was only six and a half years old.

_Life, Hope, Truth, Trust, _

_Faith, Pride, Love, Lust_

_Pain, Hate, Lies, Guilt,_

_Laugh, Cry, Live, Die_

Harry looked at the simple polished stone. Today the sky had puffs off white fluffed about in the blue. The cheery sun warmed his back. Harry squatted down to the gravestone before him.

_Keith Michael Potter_

And that was it. No date, no embellishments, no riff-raff. It was simple, as Harry wanted it. Next to him was his mother's grave.

_Annabel Lee Tomlin_

He sighed and traced the names of both. Two souls taken too soon. Two hearts taken to break one. Placing a kiss on each, he turned and left, the wind rustling his hair out of place and stinging his eyes.

_Some friends become enemies_

_Some friends become your family_

_Make the best with what you're given_

_This ain't dying _

_This is living._

_Sometimes_, he thought, _you just have to keep moving on._

**COMPLETE**

"Movin' On", by Good Charlotte.


End file.
